Stir Fry
by Annie Hawkclaw
Summary: As soon as Dr. Wells said those words, Cisco realized that it was all over. But then again, he was also unexpectedly craving stir fry, so who knows what could happen. An alternate ending to the scene in "Out of Time".


"Forgive me, but to me you've been dead for centuries."

As soon as Dr. Wells said those words, Cisco realized that it was all over. A strong vibration and then a deep pain followed as his former mentor/friend/father removed his hand from where it had just been lodged inside his chest. Cisco looked up with a final pleading look in his eyes; another tear fell down his cheek as he started to slump.

His head hit the lab's floor, and that final tear rolled off his cheek and onto the ground as Harrison Wells turned his back on him.

Dr. Wells felt no remorse, not even a single drop, for what he'd just done. In fact, at the moment he felt very little other than a slight agitation for having to unmask himself in this way.

Cisco, on the other hand, felt many things as he watched the final moments of his life go by.

Of course there was the expected feeling of betrayal, but more than anything, Cisco felt sad. He mourned for his life, his lost mentor, and the people he was leaving behind unprepared for the dangers presented by Dr. Well's facade. He mourned for the things he hadn't said, for the things he had never tried, and for the things he would never get to do. He mourned for the fact that these seconds would be his last.

Out of those many things, the innumerable moments he was trying to remember before it all went away, Cisco felt three other things, odd things, that he hadn't imagined anyone could feel right before dying.

First of all, he felt tired. Exhausted, even. Secondly, he had a strange craving for stir fry. Why at this moment he could possibly be hungry was beyond Cisco's reasoning, so he let that thought pass quickly.

The final feeling he felt, which he didn't know what quite to make of, was a pounding in his chest. It sounded loud, oh so loud, but Cisco thought that it might be his heart.

Three minutes after Harrison Wells left the lab, the automatic lights went off. Dr. Wells had always insisted on setting the motion-sensing lights to the smallest time possible to conserve power. The lights had caused many a distraction when they would turn off at a crucial, tense moment in the lab when nobody had dared to move. Harrison Wells, though, had always insisted that they be kept this way, and no one argued with him.

The room, filled with darkness, was only lit by the small, blinking lights of the many machines that took up the majority of the lab's floor space. These machines continued to beep and whirl, continuing to work just as they had when turned on previously by Cisco only a few hours ago.

Nothing much happened in the lab, and time passed, until four or so more minutes had gone by. Then, all of a sudden, the overhead lights turned on in a massive surge of illumination and filled the room once again. A small brown mouse squeaked in horror and catapulted itself into the nearest crack in the wall.

The lights, assuming they had once again fulfilled their purpose, promptly clicked off after the designated three minutes. If the lights could have had emotion, they would have felt quite satisfied at having performed their job well, and then, two minutes later, slightly annoyed as a movement below once again set them off.

Cisco blinked his eyes open once, and then closed them. After a few moments, he dared to open them again against the bright light. He yawned, feeling like he had fallen asleep late at night by accident and had just managed to jolt himself awake.

He blinked again and slowly sat up, confusion present on his face as he started to awaken and his mind started to function, realizing what it had awoken from. Cisco looked down at his chest, blinked once again, and then carefully lifted his shirt up to view his mortal wound, dealt to him by one of his former best friends. The so called mortal, deadly, lethal blow had already scabbed up, and started to shrink and heal as he watched.

Cisco blinked again, more slowly this time. He looked away, and then he looked back down at his chest, where his injury continued to heal.

_Well, that's unexpected._ was the only thing Cisco could think of to say to himself.

A few more moments passed, and Cisco leaned back up against a nearby desk. Gradually, a smile broke on his face, and he laughed in both relief and excitement.

_Now this, this is cool. _

After a few more laughs, more now of excitement than relief, Cisco (ever so carefully) lifted himself up and walked out of the room, a bit sore, but otherwise all right.

Half an hour later, after a few calls (one to Caitlin, to her relief, and one to Barry, to his dismay and then excitement), a _'few'_ emails (to every online news website he could find, telling them the truth about his dear friend Dr. Harrison Wells), and a Facebook post (just to rub it in), Cisco went about finding himself a place to order some well deserved stir fry.


End file.
